SONNETS 

TO  A 
RED-HAIRED 

LADY 

AND  FAMOUS 
LOVE  AFFAIRS 


BY 
DON  MARQUIS 


v  r^Sjf ^    <^<-~*s 


SONNETS  TO  A  RED-HAIRED  LADY 

AND 

FAMOUS  LOVE  AFFAIRS 


BOOKS  BY  DON  MARQUIS 

CRUISE  OF  THE  JASPER  B. 

DANNY'S  OWN  STORY 

DREAMS  AND  DUST 

HERMIONE  AND  HER  LITTLE  GROUP  OF 

SERIOUS  THINKERS 
POEMS  AND  PORTRAITS 
PREFACES  (DECORATIONS  BY  TONY  SARG) 
SONNETS  TO  A  RED-HAIRED  LADY  AND 

FAMOUS  LOVE  AFFAIRS 
THE  OLD  SOAK  AND  HAIL  AND  FAREWELL 


"Suzanne,  my  beard  is  blue* 


SONNETS  TO  A 
RED  HAIRED  LADY 

(By  a  Gentleman  with  a  Blue  Beard) 
AND 

FAMOUS  LOVE  AFFAIRS 

BY 
DON  MARQUIS 


DRAWINGS 

BY 
STUART    HAY 


GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
1922 


REP.  GEN.  LIB, 
ACCESS.  NO.    75*6 


COPYRIGHT,  1922,  BY 
DOTTBLEDAY,  PAGE    &   COMPANY 

ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED,    INCLUDING    THAT    OF    TRANSLATION 
INTO  FOREIGN   LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 

COPYRIGHT,  I9IS,  I9l6,  1917,  BY  SUN  PRINTING  AND  PUBLISHING  ASSOCIATION 

PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 

AT 
THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS,  GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


TO 
MARY,  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DEDICATED 
WITHOUT   HER    PERMISSION 

BY  ONE  OF 
HER  HUMBLE  ADMIRERS 


CONTENTS 

SONNETS  TO  A  RED-HAIRED  LADY 

PAGE 

I.     Comet,  shake  out  your  locks  and 

let  them  flare    .....         1 
II.     Plunge  shaded  eyes  adown  the 

flaming  past      .....         2 

III.  Old  Titian  loved  your  sort  of 

fiery  mop     ......         3 

IV.  A  golden  strangeness  through  the 

night  is  shed     .      ....      .         4 

V.     Suzanne,  I  bid  you  fling  aside 

your  comb  .      .      .      .      .      .         7 

VI.     My  Torchlight  Dame!  My  Frail 

Incomparable!        .      .      .      .         8 

VII.     I  saw  some  bright  flowers  sway 
ing  in  the  park       ....       11 

VIII.     There  is  a  freckle  just  below  thine 

ear       V     *      .      .      .      .      .       12 

IX.    All  ardors  of  the  flaming  dawn 

are  thine  15 

X.     Some  blind  and  witless  boobs, 

Caloric  Cutey        ....       16 
vii 


viii  Contents 

XL     My  Blazing  Jewel!  in  thee  all 

gems  have  part      ....       19 
XII.     Sun  of  my  Heaven!      Harvest 

Moon  of  love ! 20 

XIII.     When  I  approach  the  chill  Le 
thean  River      .....       23 
XIV.     When  I  grow  older  will  you  be 

my  wife? 24 

XV.     Suzanne,  I  bring  you  ornaments 

of  jade 27 

XVI.     Against       what       background 

should  I  paint  your  head?     .       28 
XVII.     Dante    for    Beatrice    sang  his 

solemn  story 31 

XVIII.     If  I  were  blind,  my  spirit  still 

would  see 32 

XIX.     All  ardours,    prisms,    glamours, 

gems  of  gold 33 

XX.     Suzanne,  give    me    a    lock  of 

that  bright  hair!          ...       34 
XXI.     O    lovely    Griddle  where    my 

Cakes  of  Song        ....       35 
XXII.     As  the  mad  lark  rises,  drunk 

with  song  and  sun       ...       36 
XXIII.     You  are    a    Torchlight    Rally, 

Susan!  Flare!    .  37 


Contents  ix 

XXIV.     I  had  a  dream,  and  in  the 

dream  they  said       ...       38 
XXV.     Since  first  man's  eyes  unsealed 

were  in  sight       ....       41 
XXVI.     Suzanne,  my  Beard  is  Blue, 

whether  I  shave       ...       42 
XXVII.    Blue  is  my  Beard,  Suzanne; 

my  Beard  is  Blue !   .      .      .       45 
XXVIII.     Splendour  Incarnate!    Great 

Auroral  Blaze!    ....       46 
XXIX.     Thy  motion  fills  the  eye  with 

minstrelsy 47 

XXX.     Your  mother,  turning  to  me 

suddenly       .....       48 
XXXI.    Why  do  you  let  Mose  Billups 

call  you  "Sue"?       ...       51 
XXXII.     When  Dian  o'er  the  purple 

ocean  springs      ....       52 

XXXIII.  The  poet  blots  the  end  the 

jester  wrote  .....       55 

XXXIV.  I  did  not  wish  to  love  thee, 

for  I  hate 56 

XXXV.     Strip  off  my  mask  of  laughter 

from  my  face      ....       57 
XXXVI.     Warned     by     a     thousand 

dreams,  I  took  no  heed.  58 


CONTENTS 

FAMOUS  LOVE  AFFAIRS 

PAGE 

Paris  and  Helen        .      . 61 

King  Cophetua  and  the  Beggar  Maid     .  67 

Tristram  and  Isolt 73 

Othello  and  Desdemona 81 

Antony  and  Cleopatra 84 

Cleopatra  on  Mrs.  Marc  Antony        .      .  89 

Queen  Elizabeth  Interviewed        ...  97 

Romeo  and  Juliet 103 

Petrarch  and  Laura     . .     .     .      .      .      .  107 

Hero  and  Leander 112 

Adam  and  Eve         .      .      .     .     .  -    .      .  119 

Lancelot  and  Guinevere 122 

Solomon  and  Balkis 126 

Dido  and  ^Eneas    .....      .      .  130 

Harlequin  and  Columbine       ....  136 


LIST  OF  TEXT  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  Suzanne,  my  beard  is  blue  "  .       Frontispiece 


PAGE 


"  I  canned  her,  Sue  " 5 

"  Would  fuss  with  herpicide "    .     .     .     .  9 

"I  steer  by  you" 10 

"  I  soaked  the  poor  girl  in  a  vat  of  lotion"  13 

"  I  took  a  club  and  chased  the  girl  away"  17 

"This  lowbrowed  world" 21 

"As  I  await  old  Charon's  hydro-flivver"  25 

"  Before  you  snowed  so  over  all "       .     .  29 

"  'Susan  was  the  Ace  ' " 39 

"Drawn  together  by  some  cubist"     .     .  43 

"Above  the  clutching  hands  of  fate  "      .  49 
"Something  kindred  in  me  jumps  and 

sings " 53 

"  Paris  was  a  pretty  gent " 63 

"  Drink  chalice  after  chalice  "  .  69 

"  Rode  by  her  palace  on  a  day  "...  75 

"  'I  need  some  drammer'  " 85 

"  In  rushing  from  the  palace  "  .     .     .     .  95 

"  'I  cannot  live  a  year  without  her'  "      *  109 

"He  would  do  fancy  swimmin'  "...  113 

"  Adam  was  a  handsome  lad  "  ....  117 

"  Too  intimate  to  write  on  "      ....  131 


SONNETS  TO  A  RED-HAIRED  LADY 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired 
Lady 


L 


COMET,  shake  out  your  locks  and  let  them 

flare 

Across  the  startled  heaven  of  my  soul ! 
Pluck  out  the  hairpins,  Sue,  and  let  her  roll ! 
Don't  be  so  stingy  with  your  blooming  hair, 
But  let  the  whole  created  cosmos  share 
The  glory  of  its  colour,  flashed  and  swirled 
Like  nets  of  sunset  flung  to  mesh  a  world. . . . 
Don't  wear  it  in  a  little  wad  up  there! 

And  yet,  Suzanne,  my  comet  and  my  star, 
At  times  restrain  those  locks  a  little,  too. . .  . 
My  First  Wife  let  her  hair  go  quite  too  far 
In  culinary  ways.  I  beaned  her,  Sue.  .  .  . 
She  looked  so  wistful  as  she  passed  away. 
That  dear,  lost  woman,  Sue!  Ah,  welladay! 
1 


2     Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 

II. 

PLUNGE  shaded  eyes  adown  the  flaming 

past 
And  lamp  the  locks  that  set  the  world 

afire: — 
O  wig  that  touched  off  Troy!    O  Dido's 

pyre, 
Where  flame  was  given  back  to  flame  at 

last! 

O  love  that  lashed  Ulysses  to  the  mast 
What  time  the  red-head  Sirens  smote  the 

lyre! 

O  simps  that  used  to  simmer  and  perspire 
When  Mary  Stuart's  furnace  ran  full  blast! 

My  Second  Wife  would  very  often  say: 
"There's  nothing — nothing — I  can  do  with 

it 
Just  after  it's  been  washed!"    Ah,  wella- 

day! 
Sometimes    I've    thought    'twas    almost 

wrong  to  hit 

A  woman  hard  ...  I  mention  this  to  you 
Merely  in  pensive  reminiscence,  Sue. 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady     3 

III. 

OLD  Titian  loved  your  sort  of  fiery  mop, 
And  down  his  leagues  of  canvas,  crowned 

with  flame, 
Walks    one   long   pageant    of   Torchlight 

Dame, 

Nor  hath  Oblivion  any  traffic  cop 
To  bid  that  bright  procession  swerve  or 

stop  .  .  . 
I've  heard  your  brother  call  you  Burning 

Shame : 
Some  day  I'll  bend  that  poor  simp's  vital 

frame 
Beyond  repair!  Suzanne,  sweet  Carrot  Top, 

When  we  are  wedded,  prithee,  don't  allow 
Your  idiot  relations  near  our  house  .  .  . 
My  Third  Wife's  father  wagged  a  silly  pow 
In  all  our  councils,  Susan.     Welladay! 
They  lie  in  one  grave  now,  my  erstwhile 

spouse, 
And  he,  her  sire,  who  gave  the  bride  away. 


4      Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 


IV. 

A  GOLDEN  strangeness  through  the  nights  is 

shed 

When  Summer  merges  into  harvest-time, 
The  white  moon  ripens  to  a  globe  of  red 
And  human  blood  grows  quick  for  love  or 


cnmi 


That  sanguine  sphere  has  swung  too  close 
to  earth 

And  flushed  the  lucent  dews  of  dusk  with 
wine, 

A  sudden  madness  mingles  with  men's 
mirth 

And  pagan  fancies  walk  the  wild  moon 
shine.  .  .  . 

So  am  I  troubled  and  riot  wholly  sane 

To  see  your  red  head  floating  like  that 

moon; 
The  notions  melt  and  spread  inside  my 

brain 
Till  I  am  crazy  as  the  well-known  loon.  .  .  . 

My  Fourth  Wife  left  me  with  the  moon 

that  way; 
Some  say  I  slew  her,  Sue!     Ah,  welladay! 


"  I  canned  her,  Sue 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady     7 


V. 


SUZANNE,  I  bid  you  fling  aside  your  comb 

And  down  the  wind  let  stream  your  burn 
ing  hair! 

My  soul,  perchance,  through  midnights  of 
despair, 

May  see  it,  Sultry  Kid,  and  flutter  home! 

Or  is  there  danger  in  that  flaming 
dome?  .  .  . 

Suppose  I  fluttered  moth-like,  frying  there 

Unto  a  crackling,  Susan!  .  .  .  would  you 
care, 

My  pink-beaned  Venus  crowned  with 
fiery  foam? 

My  Fifth  Wife  had  a  wad  of  hair  herself; 
She  used  to  wash  and  wash  and  wash  the 

stuff; 

I  canned  her,  Sue;  I  put  her  on  the  shelf; 
I    like    clean    hair,     but    still,     enough's 

enough.  .  .  . 

She'd  get  it  dry  the  radiator  way.  .  .  . 
How  these  old  griefs  return!  Ah,  welladay! 


8      Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 


VI. 

MY  TORCHLIGHT  DAME  !  My  Frail  Incom 
parable! 

My  sunset  Afterglow!     My  Aureole! 

Does  your  head  symbolize  your  ardent 
soul? 

Then  must  your  spirit  sting  its  earthly 
shell 

As  hot  as  pepper-sauce  that's  served  in  hell ! 

Shake  out  those  billowy  flames  and  let  'em 
roll 

Across  the  world  until  the  very  Pole 

Melts  into  love  and  steams  beneath  their 
spell ! 

My  Sixth  Wife,  Sue,  would  fuss  with  her- 

picide; 

I  loathe  the  odor;  in  the  kindliest  way 
I  choked  her;  she  forgave  me  as  she  died.  .  .  . 
How    these    old    memories    throng!     Ah, 

welladay! 

I  do  not  wish  to  cloud  our  love  with  gloom, 
But,  Sue,  avoid  all  unguents  and  perfume. 


"Would  fuss  with  herpicide" 


(I  steer  by  you' 
10 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    11 

VII. 

I  SAW  some  bright  flowers  swaying  in  the 

park 
And  thought  how  like  their  life  your  red 

locks  blow.  .  .  . 

My  Flame!     My  Sunrise  and  mine  After 
glow  ! 
My  genial  Hearthfire  blazing  through  the 

dark! 
My  Gaudy  Kid!     Upon  life's  headlands, 

stark 
And  bleak,  over  the  treacherous  tides  that 

flow, 
A   beacon   light   your   Fiery   Bean   doth 

throw.  .  .  . 
I  steer  by  you  and  save  my  giddy  bark. 

How  I  should  hate  it,  Lighthouse  tall  and 

slim, 

If  you  should  cut  your  hair  and  dim  your  fire! 
My  Seventh  Wife  did  that;  she  doused  her 

glim, 
And   dousing  it,    she   damped  my   soul's 

desire — 

I  took  a  brick  and  shaved  the  rest  away, 
But  still  her  memory  stirs  me.  .  .  .  Well- 

aday! 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 


VIII. 

THERE  is  a  freckle  just  below  thine  ear 
That  might  have  been  a  theme  for  Shake 
speare's  art  .  .  . 

A  fleck  of  gold  out  of  thy  golden  heart, 
A  stain  that  makes  thy  stainlessness  more 

dear, 

Tossed  by  thy  tidal  blood  as  flotsam  here 
In  its  warm  voyage  through  every  lovely 

part  .  .  . 
Hang   Shakespeare,   Sue!    And  don't  let 

freckles  start! 
I'd  just  as  lief  see  optics  with  a  blear. 

Your  hair's  your  one  best  bet.     Hold  on  to 

that. 
My   Eighth   Wife  had   that   silly   freckle 

notion  .  .  . 

I  soaked  the  poor  girl  in  a  vat  of  lotion 
So  much  that  presently  she  pined  a  way.  .  .  . 
She  never  had  been  very  strong  nor  fat.  .  .  . 
These  dear  dead  women,  Sue!    Ah,  well- 

aday! 


"I  soaked  the  poor  girl  in  a  vat  of  lotion" 


13 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    15 

IX. 

ALL  ardors  of  the  flaming  dawn  are  thine, 
Its  glamours  blended  in  thy  glowing  hair! 
And  sunset  winds  within  thy  blowing  hair 
Have  twined  and  woven  all  the  sunset's 

shine! 
And  all  the  quick  and  kindling  heart  of 

wine 

And  heat  of  wit  are  in  thy  flowing  hair.  .  .  . 
Suzanne,  be  sure  you  keep  that  growing 

hair : — 
If  you  turn  bald  you  never  can  be  mine! 

MY  Ninth   Wife  used   peroxide    on   her 

bean  .  .  . 
She  had  bad  luck;  it  turned  her  wig  bright 

green  .  .  . 

I  took  a  club  and  chased  the  girl  away, 
Although  the  poor  thing  pleaded  hard  to 

stay.  .  .  . 

Suzanne,  I  hope  you'll  never  make  a  scene. 
They  grieve  one  later,  Sue.     Ah,  welladay ! 


16    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 


X. 


SOME    blind    and    witless   boobs,    Caloric 

Cutey, 
Are  moved  to  scorn  red  hair,  to  spoof  and 

mock  .  .  . 
Not  I  ...  'Od'swounds!  ...  it  biffs  me 

with  a  shock 

Electric,  overwhelming  me  with  beauty. 
My  soul  (your  salamander,  Tootsytooty !) 
In  fancy  dwells  'twixt  lock  and  burning 

lock  .  .  . 
And  had  I  twenty  souls  the  whole  derned 

flock 
Were  yours,  O  Flame  that  nevermore  grows 

sooty! 

My  Tenth  Wife  bobbed  her  hair  ...  I  got 

an  axe 
And   just  for  that  I  bobbed   the  lady's 

head! 

Alas!  the  memory  of  sweethearts  dead 
Still  from  love's  current  largesse  claims  a 

tax! 

I  hope  we  will  not  part  in  just  that  way, 
Suzanne  .  .  .  But  who  can  tell?    Ah,  well- 

aday! 


"I  took  a  club  and  chased  the  girl  away 
17 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    19 


XI. 


MY  BLAZING  JEWEL!  in  thee  all  gems  have 

part: 

Red  garnets  and  red  rubies  hot  and  bold, 
Enkindling  diamond  and  mellow  gold, 
Quick  levin  flickering  at  the  opal's  heart, 
And  the  prismed  crystal's  fiery-edged  dart, 
All  blent  to  dazzle  him  that  dares  be 
hold.  .  .  . 
A  Red  Head,  says  the  world,  will  always 

scold  .  .  . 

This    lowbrowed    world!     It    thinks    it's 
Awful  Smart! 

Ah  me!  that  sad  Eleventh  Wife  of  mine! 
She  nagged   me,  in  a   shrill,  high,  tinny 

tone, 

Until  I  hogtied  her  with  hammock  twine 
And  bound  her,  talking,  to  a  gramophone, 
Within    a    cell    where    each    jaws    each 

alway  .  .  . 
These  voices  of  the  past!    Ah,  welladay! 


20    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 


XII. 

SUN  of  my  Heaven !  Harvest  Moon  of  love ! 
Bright  Planet!  Comet!  .  .  .  whether  earth 

or  sky 
I  scan,  your  Pink  Bean  meets  my  spirit's 

eye, 
O  peer  of  flowers  beneath  and  stars  above! 

0  Aphrodite's  Crimson-Crested  Dove, 

1  love  you  as  New  Englanders  love  pie! 
Vesuvius  Girl!  your  fiery  head  fling  high 
And  give  yon  leering  Zenith's  face  a  shove ! 

My  Twelfth  Wife  used  to  go  about  with 

twisters 

Of  kid  upon  her  hair  to  keep  it  curley  .  .  . 
I  pulled  it  all  out  by  the  roots  .  .  .  Poor 

girlie ! 
Her  baldness  rather  shocked  her  aunts  and 

sisters  .  .  . 
She     died     soon     after  .  .  .  Ah,     that's 

woman's  way! 
They  leave  us  flat  so  often!     Welladay! 


"  This  lowbrowed  world  " 
21 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    23 


xm. 

WHEN  I  approach  the  chill  Lethean  river 
And  stand,   all  astral  gooseflesh,   on  the 

brim, 
Will  your  Red  Head  shine  for  me  through 

the  dim 
Damp  shadows  where  I  rub  my  soul  and 

shiver 

As  I  await  old  Charon's  hydro-flivver? 
A  Lighthouse  on  the  Other  Shore?  A  Glim 
Of  warmth  and  courage  o'er  the  waters 

grim? 
Will   you   be   mine   on   Earth   and   mine 

Forever? 


Suzanne,   I   hope  things   will   not  go   so 

far  ... 

My  Thirteenth  Wife  would  say:  "Eternity, 
My  spouse,  is  not  too  long  for  you  and  me ! " 
It  made  me  writhe!  I  painted  her  with  tar 
And  touched  her  off  and  watched  her 

blaze  away.  .  .  . 
How  love's  old  embers  burn!    Ah,  well- 

aday! 


24    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 

i 

XIV. 

WHEN  I  grow  older  will  you  be  my  wife? 
Not  now,  Suzanne  ...  in  twenty  years  or 

more. 

Unless  I  change  my  mind,  I'd  like  you  for 
A  Bonfire  in  the  Autumn  of  my  Life. 
But,  no!     You  may  be  faded  then  with 

strife 

Of  living  .  .  .  marry  another,  I  implore! 
And  raise  me  up  your  daughter  to  adore, 
Red  Haired,  with  your  own  candent 

beauty  rife. 

My    Fourteenth    Wife    had    unresponsive 

hair, 

As  drab  in  tone,  inert  to  touch,  as  clay; 
She  wore  it  in  an  ugly  little  knot; 
She  had  a  morbid  interest  in  prayer, 
Which    vexed  me  so  I  had  to  have  her 

shot.  .  .  . 
She's  with  the  angels  now!    Ah,  welladay! 


"As  I  await  old  Charon  s  hydro-fliwer" 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    27 


XV. 

SUZANNE,  I  bring  you  ornaments  of  jade, 
Dark  green  to  mingle  with  the  shifting 

green 
Of  your  cat's  eyes.     You  are  a  cat,  my 

Queen, 
White-toothed  and  tigerish  ...  but  I'm 

afraid 

Sometimes  the  part's  a  trifle  overplayed. 
Some  day,  when  you  decide  you'll  make  a 

scene, 

Some  one  will  bend  a  poker  o'er  your  bean 
And  you  will  lead  a  solemn  street  parade. 

Don't  get  too  temperamental,  Susan  dear, 
With  me!     You  dress  the  part  that  fits 

your  hair, 
But  don't  scratch,  Sue,  nor  get  upon  your 

ear, 

Nor  be  too  serious  with  that  Feline  Stare! 
My  Fifteenth  Wife  would  kid  herself  that 

way  .  .  . 
But  she  has  left  me,  Susan !    Welladay ! 


28    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 

XVI. 

AGAINST  what  background  should  I  paint 

your  head?  .  .  . 

Relieved  upon  such  paler  gold  as  falls 
Through  groined  and  mullioned  windows 

on  the  walls 
Of  storied  minsters,  crumbling  like  their 

dead? 

I  will  not  paint  it,  Kid !  Your  sort  of  red, 
As  full  of  pep  as  redhot  cannon-balls, 
Titians   must   splash   across  the  frescoed 

halls.  .  .  . 
Mine  ain't  the  art  for  it,  when  all  is  said. 


My  Sixteenth   Wife  told  every  one  that 

called: 

"  When  I  was  married  my  hair  was  so  long 
That  I  could  sit  on  it ! "  The  story  palled 
In  time,  and  she  that  told  it  stole  away 
Into  Oblivion  .  .  .  haply  I  did  wrong 
To  choke  her  with  that  hair?    Ah,  wella- 

day! 


'Before  you  snowed  so  over  all 


29 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    31 


XVII. 

DANTE  for  Beatrice  sang  his  solemn  story, 
Dan  for  Beersheba  all  his  poems  wrote, 
Alpha  in  fair  Omega's  praises  smote 
The    lyre,    and    Petrarch    jollied     little 

Laurie  .  .  . 
Suzanne,    I'll    make    you    famous,    too, 

b'gorry! 
Like  other  Well-Known  Couples  of  great 

note, 

Your  earnest,  honest  and  industrious  Pote 
Will   cover   both   himself   and   you    with 

glory! 


Alas!  my  frail  Wife  Number  Seventeen  .  .  . 

In  memory  still  I  see  her  dandruff  fall! 

"I  loved  you  once,"  I  told  her,  "O,  my 

queen ! 

That  was  before  you  snowed  so  over  all 
The    house  .  .  .  now,    Human    Blizzard, 

blow  away!" 
She  blew.     Her  memory  lingers  .  .  .  Well- 

aday ! 


32    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 

XVIII. 

IF  I  were  blind,  my  spirit  still  would  see 
Thy  being  break  my  midnight  with  its 

glow  .  .  . 

If  I  were  lying  dead  I  still  would  know 
A  warm  difference  didst  thou  pause  by  me, 
So  strong  the  glorious  vital  heat  of  thee ! 
Caloric  Kid !  you  melt  the  winter's  snow.  .  . 
I  would  sit  up  and  want  to  be  your  Beau 
Even  if  drunk,  O  Incandescent  She! 


My  Eighteenth  Wife  dropped  hairpins  by 

the  score, 

Pitter-patter,  everywhere  she  ambled, 
Jingle-jangle,  everywhere  she  rambled, 
Sidewalk,    table,     hammock,     chair     and 

floor  .  .  . 

I  drove  a  dozen  in  her  head  in  play 
One   time  .  .  .  She   took   it  serious  .  .  . 

Welladay!  ^: 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    33 

XIX. 

ALL  ardours,  prisms ,  gl  amours,  gems  of  gold , 
All  flame  of  wit  and  fiery  blood  of  wine 
Have  blent  their  brightness  in  that  hair  of 

thine! 

Worn  as  thy  woven  crown,  or  all  unrolled 
And  blown  by  amorous  winds  grown  over 
bold, 
It  gives  the  twilight  back  the  morning's 

shine, 
And  all  fresh  hearts  put  tendrils  forth  to 

twine 
Them  with  thy  living  glory,  fold  on  fold. 

Thy  hair!  ...  it  falls  in  tides  of  turbu 
lence 

Across  the  lyric  wonder  of  thy  throat, 

In  tides  that  drown  my  dazzled  vision's 
sense  .  .  . 

Said  Wife  Nineteen:  "Your  sonnets  get  my 
goat!" 

I  cried:  "Your  hair  is  like  drab-coloured 
hay!" 

I  choked  her  with  it,  Sue  .  .  .  Ah,  well- 
aday! 


34    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 

XX. 

SUZANNE,  give  me  a  lock  of  that  bright 

hair! 
Shear  from  the  burning  frame  about  thy 

face 

One  vital  flame,  one  strand  of  living  grace, 
And  it  shall  warm  me  until  death,  1  swear! 
Trust  me,  Suzanne,  to  handle  it  with  care — 
I  have  had  made  a  cute  asbestos  case: 
Over  my  heart  the  keepsake  shall  have 

place, 
Sewed  in  the  winter  flannels  that  I  wear. 


My   Twentieth   Wife  had   all   too   pallid 

lashes , 
And  her  thin  eyebrows,  too,  were  almost 

white. 
I   shaved   them   off  ...  some    incidental 

gashes 
Made  her  to  moan  and  murmur  all  that 

night, 
And  with  the  dawn  her  spirit  passed  a- 

way  .  .  . 
How  fragile  women  are!    Ah,  welladay! 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    35 

XXI. 

O  LOVELY  Griddle  where  my  Cakes  of  Song 
Are  baked!    O  Gulf  Stream  of  my  ocean 

deep! 

O  Human  Thermos  Bottle!  will  you  keep 
My  love  as  hot  as  this  our  whole  lives  long? 
Or  will  the  slow  years  moderate  the  strong 
Caloric  currents?  .  .  .  gradual  years  that 

creep 
To   frost   Love's   tootsies   where   he   lies 

asleep  .  .  . 
Shall   our  fate   be   that   of   the  common 

throng? 

Well,  you  at  least  will  live  in  memory; 
And  that,  Suzanne,  is  more  than  I  can  say 
Of  my  Wife  Number  Twenty-one,  for  she 
Out  of  my  mind  has  faded  quite  away. 
Too  vague  to  be  a  ghost!   She  worshipped 

me, 
No  doubt  .  .  .  but  one  forgets !    Ah,  well- 

aday! 


36    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 

XXII. 

As  THE  mad  lark  rises,  drunk  with  song 

and  sun, 
When    morning    bends    above    the    dewy 

meadow, 
And  his  clear  call  proclaims:   "The  Day  is 

won!" 

Over  a  hurrying  rout  of  driven  shadow, 
So  likewise  do  I  sing,  my  Sugar-Bun, 
When   your   red    bean   floats   into    sight, 

sweet  Kiddo ! 
It  fills  me  full  of  joy  ...  it  makes  me, 

Hon, 
As  happy  as  a  Million  Dollar  Widow! 

My  Twenty-second  Wife  wore  nightcaps. 

Sue  ... 
Frilled  things,  with  cherry-coloured  ribbons 

stuck 
Upon  them.     When  I  pulled  one  off,  as 

luck 
Would  have  it,  why  the  lady's  head  came 

too! 

Anger  made  me  too  rough,  as  anger  may, 
No  doubt.     So  died  our  romance!     Well- 

aday! 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    37 

XXIII. 

You  are  a  Torchlight  Rally,  Susan!  Flare! 
I'll  be  your  Given  Point,  my  Torchlight 

Dame  .  .  . 
Do  you  pass  by  me,  crowned  with  fiery 

fame, 

And  you  will  keep  me  happy  sitting  there 
Unto  eternity,  to  watch  your  glare ! 
I  am  a  Bug!     I  am  your  Moth  for  flame! 
Pete  Pyromania  is  my  middle  name — 
Gosh-ding  it,  Sue,  I  like  your  kind  of  hair! 


Ah,    Twenty-three!    that   fateful    number 

cursed 
My    third-and-twentieth    marriage    from 

the  first! 
Scarce  were  the  orange  blossoms  off  her 

when 
I  found  those  blossoms  had  concealed  a 

wen  .  .  . 
Ah,  twenty-three!     In  my  rough,  kindly 

way 
I  played   the   surgeon,   Susan  .  .  .  Well- 

aday! 


38    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 

XXIV. 

I  HAD  a  dream,  and  in  the  dream  they  said 
You  were  no  more,  and  took  me  to  the 

place 
Where  you  lay  buried;  over  your  bright 

face 
Bright  grasses  grew,   and  bright  flowers 

nourished 

Out  of  the  loveliness  of  your  bright  head — 
And  as  I  stood  there,  weeping  for  a  space, 
A  faint  voice  murmured,  "Susan  was  the 

Ace 
Of  all  those  more  than  ninety  wives  you 

wed!" 

The  number  on  your  tomb  was  Ninety- 
two! 

My  Four-and-Twentieth  Wife  I  took  in 
play 

And  showed  her  where  her  predecessors 
lay, 

One  time  .  .  .  Why  do  I  tell  you  these 
things,  Sue? 

I  don't  believe  in  dreams,  Sweetheart, 
do  you? 

But  still  they  make  one  pensive!  .  .  .  Well- 
aday! 


Susan  was  the  Ace ' 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    41 

XXV. 

SINCE  first  man's  eyes  unsealed  were  in 
sight 

One  word  has  been  the  symbol  of  his  hope; 

Wanting  that  word,  the  soul  itself  must 
grope 

In  a  thick  speechlessness  as  blank  as  night, 

Seeking  to  say  itself :  That  word  is  "  Light ! " 

Suzanne,  were  I  Hell's  darkest  misan 
thrope 

And  your  red  head  came  bobbing  up  the 
slope, 

I'd  cry,  "Cheer  O!  Here's  Sue!  Things 
are  all  right!" 

Old  kid,  I  spoof  you  frightfully,  I  know, 
But  underneath  it  all  ...  you  get  me, 

Sue? 
Wife  Twenty-five  had  hair  that  turned  to 

snow 

Because  I  joshed  her  just  as  I  josh  you  .  .  . 
But  you,  you  like  my  playful  little  way! 
Some  hearts  were  broken  by  it!    Welladay! 


42    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 

XXVI. 

SUZANNE,  my  Beard  is  Blue,  whether  I 

shave 

It  close  or  let  it  float  ambrosial  on 
The  breeze  like  sprays  of  lilac  cloud  at 

dawn  .  .  . 
Blue  as  the  tossed  and  curled  and  ravelled 

wave, 
Reef-combed,  that  coils  about  some  ocean 

cave 
Where  the  coy  smelt  creeps  to  woo  the 

flattered  prawn  .... 
Sooze,  what  a  poster  we  would  make  if 

drawn 
Together  by  some  cubist  loud  and  brave! 

If  drawn  together,  Sue!  The  artist,  Fate, 
Has  drawn  and  scrambled  us  in  just  that 

way  .  .  . 

Wife  Twenty-Six  wore  on  her  desert  pate 
A  wig  .  .  .  I  tied  it  to  an  opera  chair 
One  night;  and  when  she  rose  it  dangled 

there 
And  left  her  bald  and  broken.  .  .  Wella- 

day! 


Drawn  together  by  some  cubist' 


43 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    45 

XXVII. 

BLUE  is  my  Beard,  Suzanne;  my  Beard  is 
Blue! 

Blue  as  the  nose  that  graduate  drunkards 
wear  .  .  . 

Blue  as  the  tumbled  meadows  of  wide  air 

Pallas  Athene's  chariot  plunges  through.  .  . 

(I  don't  know  why  I  drag  in  Pallas,  Sue, 

Except  the  name  sounds  rather  flossy 
there)  .  .  . 

Y/ith  my  Blue  Beard  and  with  your  Crim 
son  Hair, 

Affinities  predestined,  Me  and  You! 

Mayhap  I've  told  you  why  Wife  Twenty- 
seven 

Left  me  to  mourn  and  climbed  the  starry 
way 

Up  from  a  thirty-dollar  flat  to  Heaven? — 

Suzanne,  the  woman  carelessly  turned 
gray! 

I  gently  slew  her  one  sweet  Autumn  even.  .  . 

These  poignant  old  regrets!  Ah,  Wella- 
day! 


46    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 


XXVIII. 

SPLENDOUR  Incarnate!  Great  Auroral  Blaze! 

Pillar  of  Fire,  that  through  my  mortal 
night 

Still  burns  to  give  my  groping  spirit  sight, 

I'm  gonna  bean  your  Dad  one  of  these  days ! 

"Carrots,"  I  heard  him  call  you,  and 
amaze 

That  such  a  Ribald  Boob,  by  no  means 
bright, 

Should  be  your  parent  overwhelmed  me 
quite. 

"Carrots,"  he  called  you!  Blast  his  vul 
gar  ways! 


Listen,  Suzanne:  he'd  better  get  a  job! 
He  cannot  board  with  us  when  we  are  wed, 
That     pear-nosed,     goat  -  chinned,     fish- 

mouthed,   prune-eyed  slob! 
My  Twenty-eighth  Wife  had  a  Dad  I  fed: 
They  ate  and  ate  until  both  passed  away 
Through   eating  Prussic  Acid  .  .  .  Well- 

aday! 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    47 

XXIX. 

THY  motion  fills  the  eye  with  minstrelsy, 
As  if  thou  wert  a  Song  one  could  behold.  .  . 
Proud  sails  of  Venice  steeped  in  ruddy  gold, 
Singing  their  colour  down  the  charmed  sea, 
Move  onward  clad  in  music  like  to  thee  .  .  . 
As  long  as  you  can  keep  from  getting  old 
I'm    for    you,     Brick-Topped    Sue,    nor 
shall  grow  cold, 

0  Pink-Domed  Theme  for  my  Hyperbole! 

My  Twenty-ninth   Wife  used  to   change 

and  change 
And  change  the  way  she  wore  her  hair  and 

say: 
"Now,  don't  you  like  it  better,  Love,  this 

way?" 
She    seemed    exhaustless    in    her    hirsute 

range  .  .  . 

1  scalped  her,  Susie  dear  .  .  .  Ah,  Well- 

ad  ay! 

How  sweet  old  memories  are,  how  rare  and 
strange! 


48    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 


XXX. 

YOUR  mother,  turning  to  me  suddenly, 
Caught  the  broad  sunset  on  her  triple  chin 
And  nigh  her  ample  and  too  friendly  grin, 
Where  cheek  joins  neck  in  blown  obesity, 
A  faint  red  whisker  was  confessed  to  me. 
Suzanne!  if  you  should  feel  a  beard  begin 
Be  resolute  and  to  the  hilts  thrust  in 
These   silvern   tweezers    that   I    send    to 
thee  . 


And  if  nor  strength  nor  sleight  of  art  avail, 
Oh,  still  be  resolute,  Suzanne,  and  play 
The  nobler  part;  a  dagger  here  I  lay 
Beside  the  tweezers,  Sue  .  .  .  My  Thir 
tieth's  tale 
Deals   with    a    Wart   that    naught   could 

charm  away; 
A  tale  so  sad,  so  sad !  Ah,  Welladay ! 


* Above  the  clutching  hands  of  Fate9 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    51 

XXXI. 

WHY  do  you  let  Mose  Billups  call  you 
"Sue?" 

That  rodent-minded,  mutt-faced,  wolf- 
eared  Mose, 

That  muddy  blackhead  on  Life's  pitted 
nose, 

That  dull  negation  of  the  good  and  true! 

Yes,  I  have  heard  him  call  you  "Soosie," 
too! 

And  once  he  said  you  were  "a  fullblown 
rose"  .  .  . 

Good  Gawd!  to  fall  for  phrases  such  as 
those 

When  I  write  Sonnets  such  as  these  to  you ! 

Suzanne,  perhaps  you  don't  appreciate 
The  fact  that  I,  in  this  immortal  rhyme, 
Lift   you   above   the  clutching   hands   of 

Fate 
And  make  you  bronze  to  blunt  the  edge  of 

Time! 
Some  of  my  earlier  wives  were  blind  that 

way  .  .  . 
Where  are  they  now?  Alas!  and  Welladay! 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 


XXXII. 

WHEN  Dian  o'er  the  purple  ocean  springs 
The  porpoise  spouts  in  glee,  the  penguins 

crow, 

And  all  the  glad  sea  lions  leap  and  blow 
Their  trumpets  till  the  well-known  welkin 

rings. 
And  something  kindred  in  me  jumps  and 

sings, 
Suzanne,  when  your  red  bean's  supernal 

glow 

Flings  heavenly  light  about  you  as  you  go 
Across   the   beach   in   your   new   bathing 

things. 

'Tis  more  than  what  you  wear,  or  even 

what 

You  do  not  wear,  that  stirs  my  lyric  blood; 
You  are  my  moon,  my  planet  bright  and 

hot, 
I'm  like  the  wallowing  creatures  of  the 

flood: 

The  tidal  moods  of  me  you  mete  and  sway. 
One  wife  would  bathe  in  stockings!    Well- 

aday! 


66 Something  kindred  in  me  jumps  and  sings" 

53 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    55 

XXXIII. 

THE  poet  blots  the  end  the  jester  wrote: 
For  now  I   drop   the   dull   quip's   forced 

pretence, 

Forego   the   perch'd    fool's    dubious    emi 
nence — 

Thy  tresses  I  have  sung,  that  fall  and  float 
Across  the  lyric  wonder  of  thy  throat 
In  dangerous  tides  of  golden  turbulence 
Wherein  a  man  might  drown  him,  soul  and 

sense, 
Is  not  their  beauty  worth  one  honest  note? 

And  thee,  thyself,  what  shall  I  say  of  thee? — 
Are  thy  snares  strong,  and  will  thy  bonds 

endure? 
Thou  hast  the  sense,  hast  thou  the  soul  of 

me? 

In  subtle  webs  and  silken  arts  obscure 
Thou  hast  the  sense  of  me,  but  canst  thou 

bind 
The  scornful  pinions  of  my  laughing  mind? 


56    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 

XXXIV. 

I  DID  not  wish  to  love  thee,  for  I  hate 
To  have  a  woman  clinging  to  my  soul : 
My  gods  have  made  it  hard  to  seek  their 

goal 

Without  the  burden  of  that  added  weight. 
Some  men  there  be,  triumphant  over  fate, 
Who  say  they  gain  more  freedom  through 

control 

Of  a  binding  love  that  dominates  the  whole 
Of  them;  I  find  it  hard  to  abdicate — 

Will  Love  let  no  man  call  his  soul  his  own? 
Whether  I  walk  in  shadow  or  in  sun 
My  spirit  dies  unless  I  walk  alone; 
I  loathe  this  cant  that  says  two  souls  grow 

one! 

But  thou  wilt  call  it  infidelity 
Unless  I  share  my  jealous  gods  with  thee. 


Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady    57 


XXXV. 

STRIP  off  my  mask  of  laughter  from  my  face 
And  find  it  seamed  with  stark  realities: 
The  eye  absorbs  the  soul  of  what  it  sees, 
And  I  stare  long  at  things  whose  bleaker 

grace 
Seldom    in    woman's    warmer    realm    has 

place — 

Thy  days  are  rapt  with  mortal  mysteries; 
I  dwell  among  austere  philosophies, 
Dreaming  of  life  and  time  and  death  and 

space, 


Old  gods  resurgent,  music  visible; 
Serene,  aloof  and  chill  I  love  to  sit, 
Tranced  in  a  thought  of  heaven  and  earth 

and  hell; 

My  dreams  I  hedge  about  with  bitter  wit. 
Passion  I  understand,  but  ask  not  Faith — 
How  quick  I'd  leave  thee  for  some  Muse's 

wraith ! 


58    Sonnets  to  a  Red-Haired  Lady 

XXXVI. 

WARNED  by  a  thousand  dreams,  I  took  no 

heed, 

But  failed  to  fence  my  soul  away  from  thee; 
Mine    inner    being    guessed    what    thou 

couldst  be, 

Bi  coding  upon  an  unacknowledged  need — 
And    now    the    hush'd    thought    trembles 

toward  a  deed: 

For  sudden  beauty  bursteth  over  me 
As  a  great  wave  fraught  with  magic  of  the 

sea, 
And  I,  who  was  a  rock,  I  seem  a  reed! 


But  even  a  tower  were  shaken  with  this 

stress 

Of  gathered  tides  unloosed  in  love's  as 
sault — 

Of  gathered  tides :  more  than  thy  loveliness 
O'erwhelms  and  puts  my  bleak  resolves  to 

fault: 

All  women  loved  before,  all  loves  denied, 
Weigh  in  the  surge  that  batters  down  my 
pride! 


FAMOUS  LOVE  AFFAIRS 


PARIS  AND  HELEN 

PARIS  was  a  pretty  gent, 

His  lamps  were  quite  hypnotic; 
He  used  the  most  expensive  scent; 

His  tastes  were  .  .  .  well,  erotic. 


Helen  was  a  timid  skirt, 
All  she  asked  was  quiet  .  . 

But,  if  simps  will  try  to  flirt, 
Can  ladies  start  a  riot? 


Now  should  a  frail,  or  wise,  or  coy, 

Or  innocent  of  folly, 
Scream  because  some  Honey  Boy 

Hands  her  out  a  jolly? 

This  Paris  had  a  black  mustache, 
I  think  I  ought  to  mention  .  .  . 

Once  Helen  drooped  a  blonde  eyelash 
It  drooped  without  intention  .  .  . 

61 


62  Famous  Love  Affairs 

But  he  pretended  for  to  think 

She  drooped  it  of  election: — 
"Ah,  ha!"  he  cried,  "you  wink!  you  wink! 

Then  buss  me,  Greek  confection!" 


Which  took  the  lady  by  surprise, 
And  striving  to  expound  it, 

She  winked  again,  with  both  her  eyes- 
And  bussed  him  too,  confound  it! 


She  slapped  him  then,  and  told  the  guy, 

"Villian,  you  unhand  me!" 
And  he  looked  grieved  and  made  reply, 

"You  misunderstand  me!" 


O,  prithee,  do  not  think,"  she  cried, 
"That  I  kiss  gent'men  chronic!" 

'I  know — trust  me" — returned  the  Snide, 
"Your  buss  was  but  Platonic!" 


With  smooth  remarks  like  that  he  laid 
Her  natural  suspicion  .  .  . 

It  was  a  devil's  part  he  played ! 
Nor  did  he  feel  contrition. 


'Paris  was  a  pretty  gent' 


Famous  Love  Affairs  65 

He'd  take  her  to  see  shows  as  hot 
As  if  they  had  been  peppered; 

She'd  blush  .  .  .  he  never  changed  a  spot: 
He  was  a  Moral  Leopard! 


And  oft,  with  blushes  that  would  make 
Her  brow  and  cheek  and  chin  burn, 

She'd  listen  while  this  Subtile  Snake 
Lisped  her  the  Pomes  of  Swinburne. 

Now  Helen's  husband  saw  them  kiss  .  , 
A  sandy  man,  well  gingered  .  .  . 

And  after  several  years  of  this, 
Says  he,  "I  think  I'm  injured!" 

This  husband  was  a  man  of  strength  . 

Few  characters  were  finer  .  .  . 
And  when  she  left  her  home  at  length, 

Traced  her  to  Asia  Minor. 


Bill  Homer's  told  the  rest,  I  think  . 

Fights  and  fires  and  phrases  .  .  . 
What  started  out  with  Helen's  wink 

Wound  up  with  Hell  'n'  blazes! 


66  Famous  Love  Affairs 

The  moral  of  the  tale  is  this: 
That  mayhem,  death  and  arson 

Have  followed  many  a  thoughtless  kiss 
Not  sanctioned  by  a  parson! 


KING  COPHETUA  AND  THE 
BEGGAR  MAID 

COPHETUA  was  a  merry  King, 
And  slightly  sentimental; 

His  morals  were  (if  anything) 
What  some  call  "Oriental." 

Zenelophon,  the  Beggar  Goil, 
Was  innocent  and  careful; 

She  had  been  reared  to  Honest  Toil 
By  parents  poor  and  prayerful, 

For  Papa  peddled  lemonade 

While  Mamma  laundered  laundry, 

And  she  had  been  a  solder  maid 
Within  a  muzzle  foundry; 

But,  oh !  the  foreman  of  the  staff 
Had  tried  to  Make  Advances  .  .  . 

The  Villain  used  to  smirk  and  chaff 
And  ask  her  out  to  dances!  .  .  . 

6? 


68  Famous  Love  Affairs 

And  so  she  quit  the  Hellish  Place 
And  went  salvationarming, 

A  careful  smile  upon  her  face 
So  innocent  and  charming. 


While  begging  in  a  Beer  Saloon 
Right  opposite  the  palace 

She  saw  the  King  one  afternoon 
Drink  chalice  after  chalice — 


(He  dallied  daily  with  the  Jug, 
He  hit  the  pipe  and  gambled, 

He  introduced  the  bunny -hug 

As  round  his  realm  he  rambled) — 


Eftsoons  the  Monarch,  reeling  by 

Imperially  laden, 
Remarked,  iniquitous  and  sly, 

"Pray,  buss  me,  Beggar  Maiden!" 

"Not  I!"  she  cried,  "I'd  rather  go 
Right  back  to  making  muzzles 

Than  kiss  a  King  that  roisters  so 
And  gambles,  flirts  and  guzzles!" 


'Drink  chalice  after  chalice" 


Famous  Love  Affairs  71 

The  Regal  Cut-up,  in  a  mood 

Majestically  reckless, 
Then  offered  her  a  samite  snood, 

A  duchy  and  a  necklace. 


"Oh,  keep  your  Royal  Gauds,"  she  said, 
"And  buss  your  legal  spouses! 

I  won't  kiss  none  until  I'm  wed, 
Especial  if  they're  souses!" 

With  that  he  laid  his  sceptre  down 
Beneath  her  footsy-wootsies — 

"Oh,  wed  me,  and  I'll  fling  muh  crown 
Before  them  pretty  tootsies!" 

"O  King!"    says    she,    "y°u    have    some 
queens!" 

Says  he,  "They're  soon  beheaded!" 
That  day  his  headsman  reaped  their  beans, 

The  next  the  King  was  wedded. 

And  Mrs.  King  Cophetua  made 

All  parties  quit  their  vices, 
And  Papa's  private  lemonade 

Soon  rose  to  fancy  prices, 


72  Famous  Love  Affairs 

And  Mamma  laundered  for  the  King 

As  happy  as  a  linnet — 
Oh,  Virtue  always  wins,  I  sing, 

If  Wisdom's  mingled  in  it! 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISOLT 

I. 

SIR  TRISTRAM  was  a  Bear,  in  listed  field 
Or  lady's  bower,  Champeen  with  sword  or 

song; 

All  that  life's  traffic  could  be  made  to  yield 
Trist  took;  he'd  tell  some  Sweet  Thing, 

"You  belong!" 
And  with  that  word  he'd  cop  her  from  the 

throng. 

Boudoir  or  tourney,  tea  or  dancing  green, 
He  never  kept  them  waiting  very  long; 
Nor  Foe  nor  Frail  had  really  turned  his  bean 
Until  he  lamped  King  Mark  of  Cornwall's 
sprightly  Queen. 

II. 

MARK  was  a  Pill.     His  Little  Dame  had 

Class  .  .  . 

One  of  those  Unions  that  neglect  to  Une  .  .  . 
She  was  a  Saint !     He  was  a  Hound !    Alas, 

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74  Famous  Love  Affairs 

That  such  a  Peach  should  marry  such  a 
Prune ! 

Why  did  she  stick?  Who  knows  the  in 
ward  tune 

To  which  these  women  march?  We  know, 
at  least, 

Mark  had  a  Wad,  and  bought  her  gowns 
and  shoon  .... 

Also,  one  eats  or  one  is  soon  deceased.  .  .  . 

Mayhap  it  was  a  case  of  Booty  and  the 
Beast! 

III. 

TRISTRAM  rode  by  her  palace  on  a  day 
When    some    young    angel    leaned    from 

Paradise 
And  loved  the  earth  and  laughed  and  made 

it  May; 

And  Izzy  saw  his  lovely  purple  eyes — 
Not  the  young  angel's:  Tristram's;  other 
wise 
She  might  have  flagged  the  angel  for  her 

Beau 
Instead  of  Tristram.    Ah!  what  tears  and 

sighs 

Were  saved  if  women  never  looked  below 
The  angels  .  .  .  yet,  no  doubt,  at  times 
they'd  find  it  slow. 


"Rode  by  her  palace  on  a  day' 

75 


Famous  Love  Affairs  77 

IV. 

As  SHE  gave  him  the  rapt  Once  Over,  he 
Felt  all  his  bounding  pulses  pause,  then  fill 
With  love  as  tidal  creeks  flood  from  the 

sea.  .  .  . 
Sir   Tristram,   if  you   get   me,   got   Some 

Thrill.  .  .  . 

One  jump  and  he  was  at  her  window-sill, 
The  Sudden  Cuss!  "Divinity!"  he  said, 
"Newly    descended     from    th'    Olympian 

Hill, 
I'm  yourn!    Say,  are  you  single?    Are  you 

wed? 
If  so,  where  is  your  Spouse? — I'll  go  and 

chop  his  head!" 


V. 

"I'M  NOT  Olympian,  sir,"  she  said,  "but 

only 

Of  this  hick  realm  the  melancholy  Queen. 
You  love  me,  Stranger?     Thanks!     I  get 

so  lonely! 

As  for  your  kindly  offer  to  unbean 
My  liege  lord,  'Ataboy !  I  loathe  a  Scene, 


78  Famous  Love  Affairs 

As  all  Nice  Women  should,  but  this  is  Fate! 
No  girl  can  dodge  her  destiny,  I  ween.  .  . 
Or  do  I  dream?  Pinch  me! — Ouch! 

Don't!    I'd  hate 
To  have  you  get  some  Horrid  Notion  in 

your  pate! 


VI. 

'*!  KNOW  you'll  think  me  Unconvention- 
al!"- 

"What  are  Conventions  'twixt  Affini 
ties  ?"- 

"I  always  thought  love  was  more  grad 
ual  !"- 

"Let  Temperate  Zones  grow  warmer  by 
degrees, 

But  why  should  we  Equators  think  of 
these?"— 

"Why  does  your  mustache  taste  that  funny 
way?"— 

"Something  the  barber  does," — "Stop 
him!"— "Say  please!"— 

"Please,  then — and  could  you  murder 
Mark  to-day  ?"— 

"I'll  cut  his  throat  'mid  the  sweet  twi 
light's  tender  gray!" — 


Famous  Love  Affairs  79 


VII. 

AH,  PRETTY  prattle,  innocent  and  artless! 
Sweet  interchange  as  when   lute   answers 

lute! 
These  cooing  doves!  what  Fiend  could  be 

so  heartless 

As  wish  to  make  their  happy  murmurs  mute? 
What  Fiend  but  Mark!     That  wicked,  sly 

old  brute, 
Whenever    his    fair    wife    would    kiss    a 

stranger, 

Would  scowl  at  her  and  even  stamp  his  boot, 
Or  read  her  lectures  on  A  Young  Wife's 

Danger — 
When  Home  is  Hell  what  wonder  if  Love 

proves  a  Ranger! 

VIII. 

THE  Spoilsport  crept  behind  them  as  they 

kissed 
And   slammed    the   window  down   across 

their  necks, 

Nor  any  guardian  spirit  grabbed  his  wrist, 
And  in  one  instant  both  of  them  were 

Wrecks! 


80  Famous  Love  Affairs 

The  sad  tale's  Moral  goes  for  either  sex: 
Don't  spoon  beneath  a  giddy  guillotine 
If  any  one's  about  whom  it  may  vex — 
Make  love  quite  out  of  windows  or  quite  in 
If  you  aspire  to  keep  a  chest  below  your 
chin. 

IX. 

AND  so  they  died,  in  Cornwall  by  the  sea, 
Where  tides  asthmatic    ever  wheeze  and 

snortle, 

And  the  damp  tin  miners  going  home  to  tea 
Still    hear    sometimes    old    Mark's    com 
placent  chortle 

As  his  lean  ghost  by  a  ghostly  window- 
portal 
Slams  phantom  sashes  down  and  gloats 

and  gloats.     .     .     . 

And  so  they  died,  and  so  they  are  im 
mortal, 

And  in  Elysian  meadows  feel  their  oats 
Forever !     Death  can  never  get  true  lovers' 
goats! 


OTHELLO  AND  DESDEMONA 

OTHELLO'S  heart  was  weathered  oak, 
And  so  was  his  complexion; 

He  was,  no  doubt,  the  Biggest  Smoke 
In  Venice's  collection. 


He'd  served  Venezia's  Duke,  his  liege, 

From  Cyprus  to  Bologna, 
And  'twixt  a  battle  and  a  siege 

Eloped  with  Desdemona. 

An  F.  F.  V.,  this  artless  gal — 

First  Family  of  Venice — 
Who  played  along  the  Grand  Canal 

Splash,  squash  and  water  tennis. 

She  was  quite  blonde.     Her  father  said : 

"By  Heaven,  this  is  tragic! 
That  Dinge  could  not  have  turned  her 
head 

Unless  he'd  pulled  some  magic !" 

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82  Famous  Love  Affairs 

"I  pulled  no  stuff  that  wasn't  right- 
Us  Tans  and  us  Gamboges," 

Othello  bragged,  "can  act  as  white 
As  any  pale-faced  Doges!" 


Fate  loosed  upon  this  twain  a  man 

Of  guile  and  gab,  lago, 
More  subtle,  slick  and  sinful  than 

A  Buyer  from  Chicago. 


Insinuation  was  his  game. 

He  used  to  say:  "Old  Varnish, 
You  better  watch  your  Little  Dame! — 

The  brightest  love  will  tarnish." 


Or  else:  "I  could  unfold  a  tale! 

But  no  ...  you'd  think  me  boorish  . 
You  keep  your  eye  upon  that  Frail  .  .  . 

You  watch  her,  S wart-and -Moorish !" 


No  open  charge,  you  understand — 
He  named  no  wild  young  fellas — 

But  hinted  things  behind  his  hand  , 
It  made  Othello  jealous. 


Famous  Love  Affairs  83 

And  so  one  night  he  killed  his  wife  .  .  . 

Then  learned  he'd  been  mistaken  .  .  . 
"Well,  well,"  he  murmured,  "such  is  life!" 

It  left  him  rather  shaken  . 


Her  friends  and  kinfolks  gathered  round, 
And  said:  "Old  Black-and-Tarry, 

You  certainly  have  played  the  hound!" 
Othello  said:  "I'm  sorry! 

"Alas!  the  pillows  piled  above 
The  one  I  should  'a'  cherished!" 

And  saying  so  he  opened  of 

Himself  with  prayer,  and  perished. 

The  moral  is:  Don't  go  and  wed 
Some  shine  like  this  Othello, 

But  let  your  parents  pick  a  man 
Without  a  streak  of  yellow. 


ANTONY  AND  CLEOPATRA 

CLEOPATRA  Ptolemy's  fad 
Was  playing  Aphrodite; 

From  Hind  to  Italy  she  had 
The  name  of  being  flighty; 


She'd  often  send  a  bid  to  say: 
"On  Friday  is  my  wedding! 

Come  .  .  .  and  stop  till  Saturday 
And  witness  the  beheading." 


Scarce  a  beau  could  keep  his  bean 
Safe  from  axe  or  sickle  .... 

Egypt  smiled  and  said,  "Our  Queen 
Is  just  a  trifle  fickle!" 


Antony,  the  lucky  wight, 
Was  a  Roman  winner, 

Ladies  used  to  scheme  and  fight 
To  get  the  gink  for  dinner; 

84 


need  some  drammer9 " 
80 


Famous  Love  Affairs  87 

Old  medallions  show  him  where 

He  prances  through  the  Corso 
With  his  glad,  pomatumed  hair 

And  his  noble  torso. 

Waking  one  day  sad  with  debt 

And  blue  with  katzenjammer 
He  mused,  "I've  not  seen  Egypt  yet.   .  .  . 

I'll  go;  I  need  some  drammer!" 

He  found  the  Queen  attending,  bored, 

A  morning  tiger  party, 
A  farewell  to  a  former  lord  .  .  . 

The  guests  were  doing  hearty.  .  .  . 

She  saw  him  .  .  .  he  saw   her  .  .  .  the 
rest, 

For  neither  was  ascetic, 
Was  Robert  Chambers  at  his  best — 

Some  folks  are  so  magnetic! 

Says  she,  "You  stay  in  Egypt,  kid, 
And  can  them  Latin  minxes — 

I'll  deed  to  you  a  pyramid 
And  half  a  dozen  Sphinxes!" 


88  Famous  Love  Affairs 

Says  he,  "You  keep  your  trinkets,  ma'am, 

I  am  not  mercenary  .  .  . 
I  do  not  give  a  diadam 

For  aught  but  you,  my  fairy!" 

Though  Fate  is  skulking  in  the  wings, 
Our  Strong-Arm  Tony  clasps  her  .  .  . 

Oh!  let's  be  brief  with  tragic  things  .  .  . 
Fate  enters  next,  and  asps  her! 


CLEOPATRA  ON  MRS.  MARC 
ANTONY 

YOUR  representative  has  seen  the  Serpent 

of  Old  Nilus 
About  the  Antony  Affair;  and  never  has 

my  stylus 

Been  called  upon  before  to  sketch  a  char 
acter  so  charming  .  .  . 

Although,  at  times,  Her  Majesty  has  moods 
that  are  alarming  .... 

"I  Live  my  Own  Life,"    Cleopatra  said, 

"  and  my  intent  is 
To  persevere  in  that  respect;  I'll  follow 

what  my  bent  is! 

"  You  say  that  Fulvia's  suing  me  for  eighty 

thousand  dollars? 
A  Woman  who  can't  Hold  her  Husband 

always  peeves  and  hollers! 


90  Famous  Love  Affairs 

"But  what  a  bourgeois  thing  to  do!  How 
common !  And  how  Roman ! 

By  Isis,  kid,  a  thoroughbred  would  put  a 
price  on  no  man!" 


The  queen  received  me  on  the  roof  directly 

after  dinner; 
She's  looking  .  .  .  well,  she  is  some  queen! 

Perhaps  a  trifle  thinner 


Than  when  she  met  Jule  Caesar  on  that 
gink's  Egyptian  mission  .  .  . 

The  time  he  told  his  wife  she'd  ought  to 
be  above  suspicion.  .  .  . 


She  gave  me  coffee  in  a  cup  carved  from  a 

single  ruby; 
As  she  was  pouring  it  a  slave,   a  thick 

thumb-handed  booby, 


Spilled  some  upon  her  royal  neck,  which 

rather  riled  our  queenlet — 
She  swung  a  jewelled  scimitar  and  nicked 

his  Nubian  beanlet. 


Famous  Love  Affairs  91 

The  Nile,  below  us,  squirmed  and  flashed 
with  phosphorescent  fishes, 

And  now  and  then  a  crocodile,  content  and 
unambitious, 


Would  root  against  the  palace  steps  and 

scratch  his  back  and  bellow, 
Or  some  lorn  hippopotamus  would  warble 

for  his  fellow  .  .  . 


And  now  and  then,  as  we  conversed,  the 

queen,  in  merry  mood  O! 
Would  kick  a  courtier  from  the  roof  to  give 

her  pets  their  food  O! 


"I  loathe  Conventions,"  said  the  queen. 
"My  Soul  cannot  be  harried 

With  Trivial  Things !  I  will  not  be  Victor 
ian,  Trammelled,  Married! 


"I  gotta  be  Myself,  old  kid,  and  if  as  such 

I  break  up 
Some  Home  monogamous,  what  then?     I 

cannot  help  my  make-up ! 


92  Famous  Love  Affairs 

"Soul-mates  are  Soul -mates!  Get  me, 
kid?  I  always  had  a  leaning 

Towards  Freedom,  kid!  You  otta  Give 
your  Love  a  Higher  Meaning! 


"  You  got  that  down?  I  must  express  myself ! 

— And  you  might  mention 
That  to  my  mind  there's  nothing  as  wicked 

as  Convention!" 


"Serpent,"  I  said,  "another  point  perhaps 

you'd  care  to  answer: 
Fulvia  has  spread  the  word,  from  Capricorn 

to  Cancer, 


"That  while  you  have  the  will  to  be  a 
reg'lar  Moral  Leper 

She  has  you  faded,  frail  to  frail,  for  pul 
chritude  and  pepper — 


"She  says,  in  short,  your  Work  is  Coarse, 
your  tricks  are  out  of  kilter, 

And  that  you'd  not  'a'  trapped  her  Mark 
but  that  you  used  a  philtre." 


Famous  Love  Affairs  93 

"Did  she  say  that?"  Miss  Ptolemy  rose, 

ferocious  as  a  Bulgar, 
Then  calmed  herself  and  murmured  low: 

"My  Gawd!  How  crude  and  vulgar! 


"You  paint  'em  blue,  or  chalk  'em  white, 

or  rub  'em  with  erasers, 
Their  Commonplaceness  will  stick  out  on 

all  these  Commonplacers ! 


"This  Mrs.  Marcus  Antony  is  really  quite 

pathetic; 
It's  Personality  that  wins,  not  Poses  or 

Cosmetic — 


"But  why  should  I  get  sore  at  her?    I'll  not 

descend  to  bandy 
Words  with  such  a  low-browed  skirt  .  .  . 

nor  send  her  poisoned  candy." 


And  yet  it  seemed  to  me  the  queen,  be 
neath  her  calm  external, 

Was  somewhat  stung:  for  as  I  left  I  heard 
a  noise  infernal : 


94  Famous  Love  Affairs 

Next  day  I  learned  that  she  had  loosed  a 
large  man  eating  tiger  .  .  . 

A  pet  particular  of  hers  brought  northward 
from  the  Niger  .  .  . 


Among  her  royal  servants  who,  in  rushing 

from  the  palace, 
Were  met  by  waiting  crocodiles.     I  think 

she  harbours  malice  . 


She  took  a  dozen  female  slaves  and  named 

each  "Mrs.  Tony," 
And  fed  them  to  the  ibises,  and  did  it  all- 

aloney ! 

Sometimes  our  little  queen  is  calm,  sweet- 

natured,  soft  and  gentle; 
And  then  again  she's  something  else  .  .  . 

She  calls  it  "Temper 'mental/' 


'In  rushing  from  the  yalace* 

95 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  INTERVIEWED 

YOUR  Representative  has  seen  Miss  Queen 

Elizabeth, 
And  talked  with  her  of  Marriage,  Men 

and  Mary  Stuart's  death. 
'Twas  one  of  great  Eliza's  Spacious  Days; 

she  said  her  say 
At  length,  with  point  and  heat — as  always 

on  a  Spacious  Day. 

"That  little  red-head  Stuart  Minx,"  began 

the  noble  Queen, 
"The  best  day's  work  they  ever  did  was 

amputate  her  bean! 
The  blank-blanked  little  Green  Eyed  Cat! 

By  Priam  and  by  Hek, 
These  royal  hands  of  mine  they  ached  to 

nick  that  woman's  neck! 
She    wasn't   Moral,    kid!     And   as   Walt 

Raleigh  used  to  say, 
Do  what  you  d d  well  please,  but  do  it 

in  a  Moral  Way!" 

97 


98  Famous  Love  Affairs 

She  paused  and  drank  a  quart  of  ale,  and 

then  Her  Majesty — 
Without    abating    jot    or    tipple    of    her 

dignity — 
Leaned  from  her  gilded  throne  and  shied 

the  dripping  tankard  at 
A  lacy  bishop's  embonpoint,  and  knocked 

the  varlet  flat. 
Encouraged    by    her    playful    mood,    the 

somewhat  jovial  tone 
That  mingled  so  with  majesty,  as  words 

wed  to  a  lyre, 
A  Chancellor  pushed  up  to  her  a  thick 

north  country  squire: 
"I  knight  you,  Dub,"  the  Queen  remarked, 

and  smashed  his  collar  bone. 
The  Queen  is  full  of  grace  and  charm  and 

quaint,  unstudied  ways, 
Especially  on  what  are  known  as  Liza's 

Spacious  Days. 
"'Od's  blood!"  the  Queen  went  on,  "I've 

heard  some  blank-blanked  whey-faced 

ginks 
Have  said  I  should  have  pardoned  her; — 

but  Mary  was  my  Jinx! 
By  gad ! "  .  .  .  she  banged  the  sceptre  down 

and  all  the  court  turned  pale  .  .  . 


Famous  Love  Affairs  99 

"The  wight  that  mentions  her  is  lucky  if  he 

goes  to  gaol! 
That  dame  was  always  getting  wed !     She'd 

dress  up  like  a  horse 
And  flag  a  man  and  marry  him!    I  think 

there's  Something  Coarse 
In  any  blank-blanked  Princess  that   has 

Marriage  on  her  bean — 
To  hell  with  Men!  I've  stayed  Refined  .  .  . 

I  am  the  Virgin  Queen! 
The  Earl  of  Essex  used  to  say  when  he 

came  here  and  dined, 
'I  gotta  hand  it  to  Your  Grace!    Your 

Grace  is  so  Refined!' ' 

Your   Representative,    though    trepidant, 

found  heart  to  say : 
"Your  regal  dad  viewed  Marriage  in  a 

rather  different  way." 

"Yes,  Dad,"  she  said,   "was  crude  and 
coarse,  the  time  he  reigned  in,  ruder — 
I've  got  to  raise  the  average  for  the  whole 
House  of  Tudor!" 


She  broke  a  splinter  from  a  stool  that  stood 

the  throne  beneath 
And  quite  reflectively  she  picked  her  lovely 

yellow  teeth     .     .     . 


100          Famous  Love  Affairs 

Those  teeth  of  which  her  Poets  sing:     Oh, 

ivory  and  gold! 
They  shine  like  morning  in  her  court !    Ah, 

wondrous  to  behold  .  .  . 
And  as  she  picked  the  Regal  Teeth,  Lord 

Burleigh  ambled  by, 
And,    still    reflectively,    she    flicked    the 

splinter  in  his  eye. 


"In  former  times  the  kings  cut  up  like 

butchers,  bards  or  tanners, 
But  I  have  always  tried  to  be  a  Model  in 

my  Manners. 
The  Earl  of  Leicester  used  to  say  when  he 

dropped  in  to  dinner, 
'My  Liege's  daintiness  alone  would  make 

My  Liege  a  Winner!' 

And  also,  please  to  state  for  me,  I  Pat 
ronize  the  Arts — 
This  whole  damned  palace  here  is  cluttered 

up  with  Men  of  Parts. 
As  Walter  Raleigh  used  to  say  .  .  .  when 

he  came  in  to  tea  .  .  . 
'I  gotta  hand  it  to  Your  Grace  for  Cultured 

Ways,'  says  he." 


Famous  Love  Affairs          101 

Your  Representative  made  haste  to  say — 

what  is  but  true — 
"Of  all  the  Great  I've  interviewed,  ne'er 

did  I  interview 
A  personage,  Your  Majesty,  who  had  a 

thing  on  you!" 
"Don't  flatter  now!"  she  said,  and  smiled: 

and  as  she  smiled  a  sort 
Of  smiling  sigh  went  whispering  around 

the  nervous  court — 
For   something  of  anxiety  shows  in   the 

courtier's  gaze 
When  Great  Elizabeth  begins  one  of  her 

Spacious  Days. 


Beaumont  and  Fletcher  trotted  up,  and 

kneeling  by  her  throne, 
These  Siamese  Twins  of  Drama  chanted  in 

a  dulcet  tone 
Their   latest   song  in   praise  of  her,    the 

Great  Elizabeth  .  .  . 
Her  moods  are  changeable  .  .  .  she  rose: 

"'Od's  blood!"    she    cried:    "'Od's 

Death!" 


102          Famous  Love  Affairs 

And  snatching  off  her  coronet,  when  Beau 
mont's  mouth  oped  wide, 

With  more  than  female  force  she  jammed 
the  jewelled  knob  inside  .  .  . 

And  catching  up  his  weapon  from  a  drows 
ing  halberdier 

She  poked  it  part  in  Fletcher's  eye  and 
partly  in  his  ear  .  .  . 

"Ye  bean-fed  rogues,"  she  said,  "avaunt! 
Heraus!  How  didst  thou  dare 

In  thy  blank-blank-ed  song  to  say  thy 
Queen  had  golden  hair? 

Hath  it  not  been  proclaimed  to  all,  in 
village,  thorpe  and  town, 

That  on  last  Michaelmas  the  Queen's  long 
yellow  hair  turned  brown?  " 


I  thought  it  best  to  take  my  leave.     "  Your 

Majesty,"  I  said, 
"Some  monarchs  would  have  had  these 

beasts  well  boiled  in  oil  instead." 
Whereon  Sir  Francis  Walsingham   said   to 

Her  Majesty: 
"They  got  to  hand  it  to  Your  Grace  foj1 

kindly  leniency!" 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET 

POP  MONTAGUE'S  old  brain  was  wried 
Through  all  its  convolutions 

With  constant  thoughts  of  Homicide 
And  kindred  institutions. 


White-haired  Giuseppi  Capulet, 
Although  he  liked  his  daughter, 

The  pert,  precocious  Juliet, 
Was  fonder  still  of  slaughter. 


Young  Romeo  was  just  designed 

To  play  Italian  opera: 
A  looker,  with  a  tenor  mind — 

A  perfect  star  for  Wopera. 

Each  cutthroat  father  kept  at  hand, 
In  their  respective  houses, 
A  low-browed,  cloaked,  romantic  band 
Of  swordsmen,  thugs  and  souses. 

103 


104          Famous  Love  Affairs 

When  ennui  made  Giuseppi  sad 

He'd  go  a-Montagueing; 
Pop  Montague's  perticler  fad 

Was  Capulet-pursuing. 

How  could  young  lovers  dodge  their  doom, 

With  all  these  complications? 
They  gravitated  to  the  tomb 

To  join  their  near  relations. 

Their  bloody  story  I  might  trace — 
How  loved  they  but  to  rue  it — 

At  length  if  I  but  had  the  face, 
But  Shakespeare  beat  me  to  it. 


(They're   Shakespeare's  corpses — let   him 
hop 

About  his  morgue  and  sort  'em — 
I'll  start  where  he  came  to  a  stop 

And  pull  a  brief  post-mortem. 


Will  for  the  dagger  and  the  kiss, 
The  poison  and  the  quarrels, 

But  my  preoccupation  is, 

Far  more  than  Will's,  with  morals.) 


Famous  Love  A  fairs          105 

So  when  the  feud  had  run  its  course 
And  slain  its  scores  and  dozens 

The  ancient  cutthroats  got  remorse — 
And  gave  it  to  their  cousins. 


Quoth  Capulet:  "We're  here  to-day — 
But  where  are  we  to-morrow?" 

Pop  Montague  would  often  say: 
"I  feel  a  sort  of  sorrow!" 


Remorse  soon  heightened  to  regret; 

They  signed  a  bond  one  Monday — 
Old  Montague  and  Capulet — 

To  slay  no  man  on  Sunday! 


Their  hearts  grew  softer  with  the  years. 

Their  mood  grew  kind  and  pensive — 
They  mused,  one  morning,  bathed  in  tears, 

"Some  days,  crime  seems  offensive!" 


Salt  globules  furrowed  each  lank  cheek, 
They  thought  of  son  and  daughter, 

And  vowed  that  more  than  once  a  week 
They'd  not  indulge  in  slaughter. 


106          Famous  Love  Affairs 

Upon  their  own  reform  they'd  gloat, 
In  consciousness  of  virtue, 

And  murmur  as  they  cut  a  throat: 
"I'm  sorry  if  I  hurt  you!" 

Thus  Montague  and  Capulet, 
They  took  to  heart  the  lesson, 

And  so  the  death  of  Juliet 

In  some  ways  proved  a  blessin'. 

And  this  reform  of  which  I  speak 
Made  them  far  less  dejected — 

They  stuck  to  murder  once  a  week 
And  died  loved  and  respected! 


PETRARCH  AND  LAURA 

A  TASTE  Francesco  Petrarch  had 
For  dialects,  and  leeks,  and  verses, 

Though  Laura  was  his  best-known  fad  .  .  . 
But  Laura  loved  her  Husband  (Curses!) 

Through  twenty  long  and  tragic  years 
That  burned  Francesco's  soul  like  acid — 

(He  melted  several  Alps  with  tears) — 
Laura    remained    at    home  .  .  .  quite 
placid. 

She  loved  her  Husband,  Laura  did : 
Please  fix  that  vital  fact  securely. 

When  Petrarch  called  her  "Heavenly  kid!" 
She'd  blush  and  drop  her  eyes  demurely. 

Not  that  he  ever  saw  her  more 

Than  once  or  twice  in  any  quarter  .  .  . 
Food  took  his  time,  dialects,  and  war  .  .  . 
For  months  she'd  think  he'd  stopped  it, 
sorter. 

107 


108          Famous  Love  Affairs 

'Twas  A.  D.  1331 

He  studied  Greek  (historians  say  so) 
And  sang,  "She  warms  me  like  the  sun!" 

And  boned  up  P.  Ovidius  Naso. 


I  think  'twas  1339 

He  learned   the  speech  of  Kurds   and 

Coptics, 
And,  flushed  with  love  and  Tuscan  wine, 

Penned  three  canzoni  to  her  optics. 

In    1328  he  wrote, 

"I  cannot  live  a  year  without  her!" 
In  1346  I  note 

A  similar  remark  about  her. 


From  thirteen-twenty-nine  to  thirt- 
Een-hundred-forty-eight  she  never 

(Though  he  septennial  tried  to  flirt) 
Smiled  once  upon  his  bold  endeavour. 

She  loved  her  Husband.     And  her  Home. 

She  loved  her  Babes.     She  had  eleven. 
While  Petrarch  wrote  pome  after  pome — 

Sonnets  three-hundred-twenty-seven ! 


'/  cannot  live  a  year  without  her9 

109 


Famous  Love  Affairs          111 

And  all  white-toothed  Italia  smiled, 
Commenting  pleasantly  upon  it — 

"Dear  Laura  has  another  child!" 

"Hast  lamped  Petrarco's  latest  sonnet?" 

She  perished:  (1348). 

"Alas,"  he  sighed,  "I  never  kissed  her!" 
His  sonnets,  onward  from  that  date, 

Lead  one  to  think  he  somehow  missed 
her  .  .  . 

She  died,  and  Earth  held  little  more: 
Vain  all  its  garlic,  gauds  and  laughter! 

He  pined.    In  1374, 

Not  thirty  years,  he  followed  after. 

By  Venus,  in  those  Southern  climes, 

How  quick  and  reckless  is  love's  fashion! 

In  colder  latitudes  and  times 

We  dwell  and  learn  to  curb  our  passion. 


HERO  AND  LEANDER 

LEANDER  in  the  Dardanelles 
Had  rather  race  a  dolphing 

Than  idle  with  the  other  swells 
Or  dance  or  go  a-golfing. 


In  church  at  Abydos  one  day, 

At  a  revival  service, 
He  saw  young  Hero,  and  the  way 

He  lamped  her  made  her  nervous, 


And  after  that,  along  the  coast 
He  would  do  fancy  swimmin' 

Graceful  enough  to  charm  the  most 
Fastidious  of  women; 


When  she'd  go  bathing,  dawn  or  dark, 

About  her  bathing  station 
He'd  frolic  like  a  friendly  shark, 

Or  like  a  coy  cetacean, 
n* 


(He  would  do  fancy  swimmiri 

113 


Famous  Love  Affairs          115 

What  maiden's  heart  could  long  resist 
Such  sweet  and  shy  devotion? 

Full  often,  when  he  dived,  she  kissed 
And  patted  his  pet  ocean! 

Leander,  on  flirtation  bent, 
Across  the  straits  was  floating 

One  morning  when  her  mother  went 
To  chaperon  her  boating: — 


"Oh,  mother,  may  I  marry  him?" — 
"Oh,  no,  my  darling  daughter! 

When  young  Leander  goes  to  swim 
Don't  you  go  near  the  water!" 


Alas !  that  maids  should  disobey, 
Whom  parents  trust  and  bless  so! 

Girls  will  be  girls  ...  in  Hero's  day 
They  were  not  any  less  so. 


Next  time  she  heard  him  in  the  sea 
Snort  like  a  loving  grampus, 

Says  she,  "Swim  over  after  tea — 
It's  dark,  and  none  can  lamp  us!" 


116          Famous  Love  Affairs 

And  after  that,  to  light  her  love, 
She  used  to  show  a  candle  .  . 

It  grew  to  the  dimensions  of 
A  reg'lar  seashore  scandal  .  .  . 


But  finally  Neptune,  Triton,  or 

Some  ordinary  porpoise, 
Caught  him  a  mile  or  two  from  shore 

And  served  a  habeas  corpus. 

The   night    was    cold  .  .  .  the    sea    was 
damp  .  .  . 

Alas,  for  him  and  Hero! 
The  moral  is :  Don't  risk  a  cramp 

When  the  water's  down  to  zero. 


"Adam  was  a  handsome  lad" 
117 


ADAM  AND  EVE 

ADAM  was  a  handsome  lad, 
Innocent  and  merry; 

Garden  parties  were  his  fad, 
And  he  was  honest,  very. 


Eve  was  rather  artless;  she 
Was  also  quite  vivacious; 

She  plucked  her  raiment  from  a  tree 
Elseocarpaceous. 


Satan  was  a  City  Man, 
Wicked,  dark-complected  . 

He  paled  as  only  villains  can 
When  Eve  his  love  rejected. 


Satan  was  a  chap  who  used 
To  sin  with  conscious  pride,  O! 

He  drank,  he  swore,  he  introduced 
The  Boa  Constrictor  Glide,  O! 

119 


120          Famous  Love  Affairs 

When  she  turned  the  fellow  down, 
Though  with  rage  he  trembled, 

Satan  smoothed  away  a  frown, 
Smiled  at  her,  dissembled  .  .  .  , 


But  he'd  think  of  it  and  curse 
While  he  drank  or  gambled; 

Thoughts  of  dark  revenge  he'd  nurse 
As  round  the  world  he  rambled. 


He  muttered,  "This  is  not  the  end; 

You'll  repent  it,  Madam!"  .  .  . 
But  he  posed  as  Family  Friend 

When  she  wedded  Adam. 


Years  went  by,  and  still  he  came 

Once  a  week  to  dinner; 
His  outward  mood  was  bland  and  tame, 

But  evil  was  his  inner. 


Quite  informal  he'd  drop  in, 
Dine  and  help  do  dishes  .  .  . 

Who  could  think  he  planned  a  sin? 
Who'd  believe  him  vicious? 


Famous  Love  Affairs 

But  every  time  he  wiped  a  plate 
Or  helped  poor  Adam  buttle 

He'd  sneer  inside  and  meditate 
Something  smooth  and  subtle.1 

At  last  he  gained  in  Adam's  house 

A  plausible  position; 
At  last  he  lulled,  in  Adam's  spouse, 

Her  natural  suspicion. 


He  rooned  'em  .  .  .  then  he  gave  a  hiss, 
A  glide  and  boa-constricted  .  .  . 

Details  are  told  in  Genesis  .  .  . 
I  think  they  were  evicted. 


LANCELOT  AND  GUINEVERE 

KING  ARTHUR  was  a  steady  king, 
Who  loathed  light  talk  or  skittish, 

Respectable  as  anything, 

Strong  'eaded,  blond  and  British. 


His  Queen  beside  him  on  the  throne, 
So  golding  'aired  and  tidy, 

Would  tip  the  beam  at  fourteen  stone, 
And  every  ounce  a  lydy. 


Sir  Lancelot  was  'andsome,  quite, 
The  women  all  adored  him — 

He  tried  to  bear  it  like  a  knight, 
But  being  worshipped  bored  him. 


His  big,  bright  shield  was  curved  and  bent 
And  more  tub-shaped  than  normal; 

He'd  frequent  halt  a  tournament 
And  bathe,  all  stern  and  formal. 
122 


Famous  Love  Affairs          123 

The  knights,  they  might  'ave  bashed  'im 
then 

While  'e  was  coldly  scrubbing, 
But  they  were  British  gentlemen 

Respectful  of  his  tubbing. 

'E  loved  'is  Queen,  and  she  confessed 

'Is  love  reciprocated; 

It  grieved   'em  both  .  .  .  they  did  their 
best 

But  could  not  feel  elated. 

"My  word,"  Sir  Lancelot  would  sigh, 
"What  rotten  form  to  love  'er!" 

And  then  Vd  gloom  and  say  good-by  .  .  . 
Return  .  .  .  and  gloom  .  .  .  and  hover. 

The  Queen  would  call  'erself  a  fraud — 

She  hated  loving,  madly ! — 
"It's  using  Harthur  bad  .  .  .  Oh,  Gawd!" 

The  Queen  would  mutter  sadly. 

"To  think,"  says  he,  "I'd  act  the  same 

As  any  foreign  bounder!" 
And  moaning  with  a  sense  of  shame 

He'd  put  his  arm  around  'er. 


124          Famous  Love  Affairs 

She'd  kiss  him,  while  repentant  tears 
Fell  salt  on  his  proboscis  .  .  . 

For  seventeen  long  mournful  years 
They  nobly  bore  their  crosses  .  .  . 


'E  moralized,  grew  thin,  austere, 
And  groaned,  awake  or  sleeping; 

But  she  grew  bloated,  Guinevere, 
With  self-reproach  and  weeping. 


When  Honest  Arthur  learned  the  fac's 
It  shocked  him  so  completely 

The  court  opined  they'd  get  the  axe  .  . 
Instead,  he  took  it  sweetly  .  .  . 


King  Arthur  says,  "Me  for  the  tomb, 
Where  no  disgrace  can  grab  us!" 

The  Queen  crept  sobbing  from  the  room 
And  went  and  was  an  Abbuss. 


And  Lancelot,  he  moaned  and  said, 
"I  'ope  no  one  will  guy  'er! 

For  me,  I'll  shave  my  blooming  'ead 
And  go  and  be  a  friar." 


Famous  Love  Affairs          125 

The  moral  is:  Observe  your  bent, 

Your  own  traits  mark  and  measure— 
If  one  has  not  the  temperament 
Philandering  isn't  pleasure. 


SOLOMON  AND  BALKIS 

FROM  Beersheba  up  to  Dan 
Another  such  a  caravan 
Dazed  Palestine  had  never  seen 
As  that  which  bore  Sabea's  queen 
Out  of  the  fain  and  flaming  South 
To  slake  her  yearning  spirit's  drouth 
At  wisdom's  pools,  with  Solomon. 


With  gifts  of  scented  sandal-wood 
And  labdanum  and  cassia-bud, 
With  spicy  spoils  of  Araby 
And  camel-loads  of  ivory 
And  heavy  cloths  that  glanced  and  shone 
With  pearl  inwrought  and  beryl-stone 
She  came,  a  bold  Sabean  girl. 

And  did  she  find  him  sad,  or  gay? 
Perchance  his  palace  breathed  that  day 
With  psalters  sounding  solemnly — 
Or  cymbals'  merrier  minstrelsy — 

126 


Famous  Love  Affairs          127 

Perchance  the  wearied  monarch  heard 
Some    loose-tongued    prophet's    meddling 
word; — 

None  knows,  no  one — but  Solomon! 


She  looked — with  eyes  wherein  were  blent 
All  ardours  of  the  Orient; 
She  spake — all  magics  of  the  South 
Were  compassed  in  the  witch's  mouth; — 
He  thought  the  scarlet  lips  of  her 
More  precious  than  En  Gedi's  myrrh, 
The  lips  of  that  Sabean  girl. 

By  many  an  amorous  sun  caressed,1! 
From  lifted  brow  to  amber  breast 
She  gleamed  in  vivid  loveliness — 
And  lithe  as  any  leopardess — 
And  verily,  one  blames  thee  not 
If  thine  own  proverbs  were  forgot, 
O  Solomon,  wise  Solomon! 


She  danced  for  him,  and  surely  she 
Learnt  dancing  from  some  moonlit  sea 
Where  elfin  vapours  swirled  and  swayed 
While  the  wild  pipes  of  witchcraft  played 


128          Famous  Love  Affairs 

Such  clutching  music  't  would  impel 
A  prophet's  self  to  dance  to  hell — 
So  spun  the  light  Sabean  girl. 

He  swore  her  laughter  had  the  lilt 
Of  chiming  waters  that  are  spilt 
In  sprays  of  spurted  melody 
From  founts  of  carven  porphyry, 
And  in  the  billowy  turbulence 
Of  her  dusk  hair  drowned  soul  and  sense — 
Dark  tides  and  deep,  O  Solomon! 

Perchance  unto  her  day  belongs 
His  poem  called  the  Song  of  Songs, 
Each  little  lyric  interval 
Timed  to  her  pulse's  rise  and  fall; — 
Or  when  he  cried  out  wearily 
That  all  things  end  in  vanity 

Did  he  mean  that  Sabean  girl? 

The  bright  barbaric  opulence, 
The  sun-kist  Temple,  Kedar's  tents, — 
How  many  a  careless  caravan 
From  Beersheba  up  to  Dan 
Within  these  forty  centuries 
Has  flung  their  dust  to  many  a  breeze, 
With  dust  that  was  King  Solomon  f 


Famous  Love  Affairs          129 

But  still  the  lesson  holds  as  true, 
O  King!  as  when  she  lessoned  you: 
That  very  wise  men  are  not  wise 
Until  they  read  in  folly's  eyes 
The  wisdom  that  escapes  the  school. 
That  bids  the  sage  revise  his  rules 
By  light  of  some  Sabean  girl! 


DIDO  AND  AENEAS 

was  a  cattle  boy, 
And  his  career  was  checkered; 
Bull  after  bull,  by  roaring  Troy, 
He  threw,  and  copped  the  record. 


Troy  down— and  Helen  tripping  back, 

Remarried  by  the  rector, 
To  Greece — ^Eneas  took  his  pack 

And  beat  it  west,  by  Hector! 

He  took  a  ship,  and  mal  de  mer 
From  Colonel  Neptune's  ocean 

Crept  up  and  shook  his  steamer  chair 
And  filled  him  with  emotion. 


A  storm  came  up— (and  other  things 

Too  intimate  to  write  on: 
When  Triton  spouts,  both  clowns  and  king 

Will  spout  right  back  at  Triton.) 

130 


"Too  intimate  to  write  on' 

131 


Famous  Love  Affairs          133 

And  in  the  straiter  seas  his  craw, 

If  anything,  was  iller — 
He  lost  his  spirit  when  he  saw 

Charybdis  teasing  Scyller. 


And  so  he  climbed  the  raging  seas, 
Green  hummock  after  hummock, 

And  got  to  Carthage,  ill  at  ease 
And  qualmish  in  the  stomach. 


Queen  Dido  met  him  at  the  wharf 
And  poured  him  out  a  potion; 

Says  she:  "You  takes  this  bumper  orf 
And  you  forgets  the  ocean!" 


He  drank.  He  calmed.  And  then  says  he 
"Old  dear,  I  like  that  tunic!"— 

He  doted  on  good  clothes,  and  she 
Was  portly,  pink  and  Punic. 


She  blushed,  and  then  said  with  a  smile: 

"Although  I  am  Phoenician, 
I  always  try  to  dress  in  style," 

Says  he:  "You're  more  than  Grecian  1" 


134          Famous  Love  Affairs 

Thus,  like  so  many  other  gents, 

Who're  pleasant  when  they're  grateful, 

He  fed  her  up  with  compliments, 
Not  knowing  they  are  fateful. 

For  all  he  meant  was  gratitude, 

To  pay  her  for  her  potion, 
But  she  construed  his  attitude 

To  indicate  devotion. 

He  only  tried  to  be  polite, 

Which    charmed    her  .  .  .  more's    the 

pity!  .  .  . 
And  she'd  assure  him  he  was  quite, 

Quite  welcome  to  her  city. 

Well,  well,  ...  his   words   went   to  her 

bean  .... 
She  led  him  to  a  cavern 
And  mixed  him  drinks  .  .  .  the  poor,  dear 

Queen! 
Folks  sneered :  "  She  runs  a  tavern ! " 

He  sailed  one  day  .  .  .  the  royal  frail 
Had  even  picked  the  parson!  .  .  . 

It  is  a  truly  tragic  tale; 

She  killed  herself  with  arson. 


Famous  Love  Affairs          135 

Do  not  as  serious  construe, 

Fair  maids,  each  small  attention, 

Or  there  may  come  a  fate  to  you 
Too  tumble  to  mention! 


HARLEQUIN  AND  COLUMBINE 

WHEN  the  soul  of  the  year  through  its  body 

of  earth 

Burst  forth  in  a  bloom  as  of  fire, 
And  the  butterflies  rose  in  a  rainbow  riot 

of  mirth 
To  flutter  and  burn  and  take  wing  and 

aspire, 

To  her  garden  our  Columbine  came     .     .  . 
She  was  light  as  her  laughter,  and  bright 

as  blown  flame — 
Flower,  woman  and  music,  and  all  these  the 

same. 


Harlequin 

Was  a  wind  of  the  Spring  that  came  out  of 

the  dawn; 
He  was  air,  he  was  whim,  he  was  fancy  and 

mirth, 

And  his  feet  on  the  earth 
Were  as  fleet  as  the  feet  of  a  faun. 

136 


Famous  Love  Affairs          137 

He  was  fickle  as  glimmers  of  starlight  that 

shine 
On  the  waves  of  the  rivers  of  dream;  he 

was  tricky  as  wine; 
He  was  pagan  as  Pan; 
A  dancer,  a  lover,  a  liar,  a  wit, 
A  poet,  a  satyr,  an  imp  with  the  face  of  a 

man; 
And  his  heart  was  unstable  as  wings  are 

that  lift 

Where  the  dragonflies  drift, 
His  heart  was  as  wings  that  turn,  dartle 

and  flit, 
And  his  loves  were  as  swift. 


And  into  her  garden  he  came  like  a  spiral 

of  wind  that  beats  down  in  a  shower 
Red  flower  and  white  flower  .  .  . 
And  their  hearts  were  as  swift  as  the  doves 

in  their  flight, 
Their  love  was  the  love  of  the  youth  of  the 

world  .  .  . 
They  mingled,  they  danced,  they  were  shod 

with  delight, 

They  were  sandalled  with  joy 

She  was  lifted  and  whirled, 


138          Famous  Love  Affairs 

She  was  flung,  she  was  swirled,  she  was 
driven  along 

By  this  carnival  wind  that  had  torn  her 
away 

From  the  coronal  bloom  on  the  brow  of  the 
May 

In  a  whorl  as  of  rapture  .  .  .  their  danc 
ing  was  visible  Song! 

•] 

His  moods  were  as  light  as  the  airs  of  the 

dawn; 

He  loved  for  an  hour,  and  was  gone  .  .  . 
What  matter  if  flower  and  red  flower 
Were  flung  down  in  a  shower, 
And  blossom,  and  blossoms,  were  trodden 

and  dead? 
It  was  only  a  wind  that  had  danced  with  a 

flower, 
When  all's  done  and  said! 


THE  END 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA— BERKELEY 

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